


Cacophony of Shadows

by StellaCorvus



Category: No Straight Roads (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Bad Dreams, Fear of Not Measuring Up to Expectations, Fear of Seeing Your Mother's Face on a Bird, Finding comfort, Gen, Hypnopompic Hallucinations, Motherly love, Nightmares, No Straight Roads to the NSR Tower, Searching for Comfort, Soothing Chamomile Tea, Tatiana is OC's Adoptive Mother, fear of failure, mentions of Eve, surrealist fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:35:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26972260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellaCorvus/pseuds/StellaCorvus
Summary: After suffering from a terrible nightmare, Anastasiya (RAVE.n) leaves her home to seek refuge in the NSR Tower with her mother, hoping to find that motherly comfort and reassurance she so direly needs.(NOTE: This is the first piece I have posted here for No Straight Roads, but it includes a fan-made district and a fan-made character, so please cut me a bit of slack. This will also be illustrated.)
Kudos: 11





	Cacophony of Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> You should not play to the tune you think the audience wants to hear. Play what you enjoy the most because you should not need to please anyone but yourself.

The Nest rose above the stage quietly as the harpsichord played its music throughout the domed amphitheater, the audience watching with enthralled awe as RAVE.n had begun gliding her fingers across the keys, her eyes closed as she felt the music echoing around her. Her raven skull mask vibrated with the dance of her body, her physical movement however utterly composed. Feathers of a raven brushed through the air swiftly, as she listened to the animatronic birds _cawing_ in the overhanging tree-like columns, softness brushing against her cheek with the texture of silk.

When she opened her eyes, her gaze landed on the faceless shadows of the men and women in the audience staring back at her, their silhouettes against the bright blue backdrop which began to play a familiar trance to accompany the double strings of the harpsichord. Her signature. RAVE.n breathed deeply to center herself, but she never stopped playing while the tiles on the stage beneath her lit with gleaming blue light.

She hummed along with the music as her gloved spider-like fingers played the keys so meticulously, carefully pressed as though they were made of glass. Yet, as the power of the music grew, so had the shadows. It seemed logically irrational, impossible to her understanding, yet it happened before her. She shook her head to dispel her anxious thoughts before turning her focus to the music that she played so effortlessly, fingers so in-tune with her muscle memory.

The closer the shadows came to the stage, the more she began to make errors. The sound of the audience heckling her came to her ears gradually, but the more missteps she had in her fingers tumbling over one another, the shadows laughed, obscuring her surroundings in an overwhelming veil of darkness. The shadows coalesced into the indistinct shape of a bird wearing a bone-like white mask over its head, glaring mockingly with bright blue eyes.

It spoke in the voice of her mother, but she could not understand the words.

She attempted to play to appease the bird with her mothers voice, but it laughed. It chortled. RAVE.n gripped her head as though attempting to tear out her hair, listening as the voice of her mother crowed in hateful amusement at her expense. It spoke to her again, lowering its head as it formed the face of her mother from the off-whiteness of the mask. Its bright eyes leered objectively, condescendingly.

It enveloped her in its all-encompassing black wings, and RAVE.n fell into the open void toward a cement roadway, the Crows Nest sitting on the horizon as it gradually snaked away from her, the black bird-beast bearing her mothers face coming down to block her path as a section of bridge collapsed into the raging sea. Without glancing behind her to see her running path, RAVE.n stared with fearful eyes at the monstrosity which fearsomely bore her mothers likeness in its mocking design. It crowed, and the shadows which rose from the sea had come to jeer at her in response to her active trepidation.

Her jaw shuddered as she picked up her pace, attempting to use her wings to fly away, only to realize that she was no longer in costume but in the civilian clothes of her childhood. She shook her head before running toward the great tower on the side of the bridge that still stood intact. Her escape, however, only amounted to the shadows coming closer and closer upon her, their sneers of amusement now overwhelming.

“ _You will never be good enough for me._ ”, the bird-beast spoke in a more coherent voice, that of her mother, but RAVE.n turned her neck only once to see the familiar body of her mother following her with a ravens head, great golden clock hands swinging violently at her, carefully-crafted balls of fire surrounding her as she made her way to the doors of the NSR Tower. RAVE.n beat upon the glass, only to find that the faceless white-masked shadows had chortled from beyond its entrance. The darkness slowly closed in on her. “ _You’re nothing but a joke. No one likes you! Your performance failed._ You _failed. …you failed_ me _. I require nothing less than absolute perfection from you, but you were not good enough. I require order, and you bring nothing but chaos to our lives. A fitting punishment must be served, and that is…_ ”

RAVE.n breathed out before screaming, eyes screwed shut, the noise of a childs cry wailing in her ears as the clock hands were brought down in judgment upon her.

Opening her eyes into darkness, Anastasiya wailed before lifting her body up from her bed and breathing out laboriously, feeling a heavy coat of perspiration sluggishly streaming down her face as she gripped the quilted comforter beneath her hands. Initially unable to gather her bearings, she blinked several times to adjust her sight to the shadows that encompassed her before switching on a lamp on her bedstand, tired eyes finding the shapeless shadows retreating to the very corners of her bedroom when she could bear to look upon it.

Shakily, she let out a breath in attempt to calm herself down from her fear. Logically, it could never possibly happen. The audience is full of people and her mother is not a bird. … _right_? “It’s okay…, it’s okay. You’re _fine_ ,” she told herself softly, gripping her head as she brought her chin up to her legs before sighing, “Mum would _never_ say those things to me.”, she clarified hopefully before seeing something move at the very corner of her vision. “Oh, _no_. No, no, no – ” One definitive glance toward the offending spot proved that nothing out of the ordinary was inhabiting the room with her.

She glanced with reddened eyes toward her cellular phone before snatching it from her nightstand with a shaky hand, attempting to remain calm in her tumultuous waking moments. Incomprehensible whispering uttered in her ears as she turned to meet the mutated, disjointed body of Eve crawling like a spider along her bed with six of her arms, and Anastasiya scrambled off of the mattress before opening her eyes again in the darkness of her room, paralyzed with utter horror when she felt herself tangled in the sheets of her bed, having fallen on the floor at some point. She still felt the strange weighted mutters of the phantom Eves nonsensical speech in her ear.

With a heavy weight on her chest from the great anxiety she felt, she struggled to release herself from the coil of the blankets around her before bringing herself to her feet and tripping back to the floorboards when the fabric carefully came off. When the memories of faceless shadows laughing at her returned, as the darkness of her bedroom reigned surpreme, she collided with the wall as she attempted to find the door leading out.

It was times like these where she loathed living on her own, with no one to spend some time with to decompress or to talk about her troubles and fears with. Who _was_ there to help her out? Her neighbors thankfully minded their own business, but she still wanted to talk. Eve? … _no_. _No, no, no!_ Definitely not that _thing!_ She threw the thought out of her mind, not wanting to see any semblance of Eve. Besides, she was in the next district down.

No. _No time. They are following her_. Her thoughts had gone into a frenzy when she heard the caws and crows of her memories putting a chokehold on her mind, the great flapping of the bird-beast behind her. What was even _real_ anymore? Was this still a dream? Anastasiya navigated her way toward the front door as quickly as she could muster, instinctually grabbing the keys from a wall adjacent to her, still feeling their presence behind her. “Go away!”, she squealed into the dark nothingness before unlocking her door and escaping out of it, attempting to lock her dreams inside of her apartment. Suddenly, she paused. Where could she even _go_?

Bringing herself to the railing, the first object that caught her eye was the gleaming black glass and glaring red of the NSR Tower standing like a beacon. Of _course_! How could she forget? The one person to ease her fears was her –

“Mum,” she whispered before instinctually feeling around for her phone with the intent to send her mother a message, but it rapidly dawned on her that it was still inside. _With the beasts_. Nope! Not going back. “I hope she doesn’t mind.” When she turned, the darkness began creeping from out beneath the door, and the fact that _they_ were still following her was enough to send her into a sprint down the stairs. “I _really_ hope she doesn’t mind…!”, she repeated before making it down toward the second floor, hearing terrible murmurs in her ear from the bird-beast whose voice was that of her mother.

No, her mother would _never_ say those things! It was true! She was certain that it was.

Anastasiya sobbed with fright when she clambered almost blindly down the stairs to reach the ground floor. “That’s not true…, it was just a dream…” Yet, her irrationality won her over when she remained fearful as the shadows advanced on her, pursuing her in her half-awakened state. Her quick breaths caused her to slow down to gather herself, her hyperventilation beginning to overwhelm her. Yet she was thankful that it only took her a minute to bring herself outside of her apartment complex before she bolted in her bare feet toward the East end of the quiet cobblestone road.

Kneeling, gripping a streetlamp posted at its corner, to catch her breath, she used the beacon of red light from the NSR lighthouse to navigate her way toward the tower. Crows crowed in the trees, yet the bird-beast sounded so deceptively raven-like – nothing made any sense! – as she twisted and turned through her route, but Anastasiya was thankful that her apartment was so close to the bridge leading to the tower. It allowed her time to realize that she would be safe in the tower in just a few moments, safe in the protective arms of her mother.

Her mother who would _not_ belittle her with such demeaning words – was it _true_ , though? Was Anastasiya actually _worthless_? It was times like these where she needed her mothers guidance the most.

When the bridge came into view, overlooking the raging sea as she imagined the silhouettes of faceless people rising from it, she felt her fears turn to reality as soon as she reached its center. Yet, the bird-beast bearing the voice of her mother never returned. Had it finally retreated? _No_. She could still feel its eyes watching her relentlessly, waiting until the last moment to convince her that this was just another dream to torment her again. Anastasiya barely paid attention to the surrounding symphony of waves crashing against the bridge as though threatening to take it down, and her with it.

There was no time wasted when she finally reached the cold pane of the glass doors leading into the NSR Tower, fumbling with her keys in shaky hands as she fought to fit the single unlocking key to her salvation into a tiny slot in the door. “Come on, come _on_...!”, she told herself nervously, gritting her teeth. She was wasting precious time that the shadows could be using to come ever closer to her, knowing their eyes were all piercing, using the tendrils of their indistinct fingers to crawl into her brain and asphyxiate it with ever increasing horror.

Finally able to open the door, she all too rapidly turned back and locked it in her irrational state of thought, seeing nothing but a thankfully calm outlook from her vantage point. Yet, before turning around, she began to think on what might be staring at her if she ran through the lobby – the face of phantom Eve, perhaps? That feeling was _still_ in her ear. What if it happened again?

She shook her head, breathing out with a sigh of relief. “I’m here now. I’m in the tower. It’s fine. I’m safe. _Right_?” Dispelling her fearful thoughts, she turned to the darkness and steeled herself as she picked up her legs to run past the vacant receptionist desk to remain hidden from the ever prying eyes of the shadows that seemingly accompanied her wherever she went. No matter what she did, they relentlessly pursued her. The mocking voice of the bird-beast reminded her of her shortcomings, to stop her from going into the refuge of her _home_ , with her sweet and caring mother.

Logically, the bird-beast could never exist, but she knew part of her mind was still stuck in a seemingly perpetual dreamscape.

Filing up the staircase to reach the interior of the dimly lit elevator, she immediately pressed the switch marking the penthouse floor, watching as the doors slid closed in the span of two seconds. Nothing came after her. Anastasiya blinked, gazing around the elevator to find that she was safe. …for now. All she needed was to reach her mother, to finally put her fears to rest.

It made her thankful she always had access to keys to the tower – her mother came off as being ceaselessly overprepared at times – that she had refuge in a time of trouble, whatever the reason may have been.

Kneeling toward the dark marble in a brief moment of respite, she brought her hands up to her hair and gazed at her exhausted reflection with tired eyes. Despite the apparitions of eyes watching her, her mind had been coherent enough to know it was just an illusion, yet…, she still felt as though she were being watched by the accusing shadows. Logically, it was impossible for there to be something _else_ in the tower with her and the one other person who rarely left it. So, why was she still afraid? Anastasiya yawned silently as she remained in her thoughts.

Bringing her blue-violet eyes upward, her attention was caught on the clock gears that shifted with each passing second, giving her mind a chance to become distracted by its methodical and mathematical motion. Knowing it would take a minute to reach the penthouse suite, she fought to rationalize her thoughts in case her mother asked her _why_ she was coming into the tower at … what time even _was_ it? Anastasiya sighed.

_Great_. Her mother would probably have already been asleep or, on the other hand, she had been awake past midnight to finish her work and was preparing for sleep. She knew it was past midnight, but not precisely how much time afterward in had been. What she _had_ known, however, was “Mum’s gonna _kill_ me for waking her up.”

The possibility that her mother might have been so dead to the world had only crossed her mind in the passing seconds before she was alerted to the doors of the elevator reopening to a calming foyer. She listened to the sound of a peaceful stream of water from the accented indoor wall fountains that graced the flanks of two ornate iron doors. At the center of the red room, on the black slate floor, a gold gilded clock actively placed the time as just past one-thirty.

It was so long since she had been in this great cylindrical room, since she had ever seen her childhood home, and she blinked in shock. It was as though she were a child again and yet, she came to the realization that she was finally _home_ , outside of a terrorizing dream. Now, just to endure the brunt of her mothers wrath for coming in unannounced.

The peace was shortlived.

Diabolical whispers returned to her ears, muttering nothing but mocking speech and laughter, attempting to bring Anastasiya away from reaching her salvation from this nightmare. She was awake. Nothing could harm her. She no longer questioned that. Breathing heavily, she refused to glance behind her, still feeling the irrational anxiety from the strange shadows that always seemed to follow. Why did it always come when she thought she was safe? It gave her all the more reason to hurry to the front doors of her mothers home.

She knew her mother loved her very much, knowing that she would never tell her that she was worthless. Her logic slowly came back, but her rationality still failed to take hold on reality.

Advancing to the doors with trepidation in her step, she paused cautiously as if reeling from the possibility that her mother _might just send her right back_ because it was very early in the morning and the woman needed her beauty sleep, but the young harpsichordist was too fearful to just turn back. She would have to face the music.

Breathing in deeply to try and calm her nerves, Anastasiya knocked loudly upon the doors and leaned her ears against it to listen to any possible noise coming from behind it. Despite both doors being nearly a half of a foot thick, her hearing was sufficient to gather any information about the inside.

She was beginning to sweat as her levels of trepidation slowly increased. The laughter and chortling was _still there_ , unable to be repressed as her anxiety brought it back into her active conscience. “ _Stop it_ , please…, why are you doing this to me?”, she whispered before lifting her hand up again to the door. Without any response from within, she knocked upon it even louder than before, knowing that, at some point, her mother was bound to hear it. “Come on…”, her voice quivered before she began breaking down.

_Their eyes were on her. They were watching her, scrutinizing her with such intensity, sneering at all of her failures._

She collapsed to the floor and gripped her head to sob. Her mind in the early hours of the morning was so frail that she easily could have lost what sanity she thought she had, unable to differentiate between her imagination and reality. She was afraid, and she was afraid to admit it. She liked having control over a problem, but this was too much for her to handle, she felt. How could anyone like a person who was unable to perceive reality? She belonged in a nuthouse! She could never measure up to the expectations her mother wanted out of her.

In the minute that passed, she only vaguely heard the doors _finally_ unlock before she had been scrambling to her feet and hiding her face from view. Her body shuddered with sadness when the doors opened, but Anastasiya gazed upon the familiar face in shock. “Mum!”, she cried with audible relief, her voice quaking, blue-violet eyes wide with utter panic.

There was the sound of a breathless gasp from the night-dressed figure of Tatiana, wearing a silk nightrobe of pale gold and a few loose strands of hair, an exhausted expression of utter surprise marking her face as she put a hand over her chest upon backstepping once. “ _Anastasiya_! What on _Earth_ are you doing up here? Have you _any_ idea what time it is?” She brought her fists to her hips and gently glowered at the young adult.

Anastasiya ignored the question entirely, desiring to feel safe in the arms of her sweet mother. “Mum, could I stay with you? They’re chasing me. They won’t stop. I feel their eyes on me every second.” The question was enough to send her mother into a high degree of concern, which Ana could see when she pursed her lips.

It seemed as though Tatiana had been taken aback by the abrupt nature of the question, but it was obvious she was not about to turn down her own daughter, who had come _all_ the way here from her home in the Twilight Symphonia district with a genuine fright that something was pursuing her, coming into the sanctuary that the tower held to her. She loosened herself before answering, dropping her annoyance from the undesired wake-up call. “Oh, Honey, of _course_.” She opened the doors further to allow daughter in, ushering her past the doorway with a guiding hand, before she calmly closed and locked them behind her, lifting two clock hands nearly twice the size of her arm to fit both into slots on the door to keep it from opening. Immediately afterward, she moved to console Anastasiya by wrapping her arms protectively around her, rocking her back and forth slowly to calm her as though she were still a baby.

To her, Ana _was_ still her baby.

When the young adult felt the warm, comforting embrace of her mother, she began to sob with incomprehensible mutters escaping her lips, muffled against her chest, wrapping her own arms around her back in a bear hug. She was safe _. She_ was _finally_ safe. The sobs only faded when Tatiana gently quieted her with a few small hushes.

“It’s okay, Sweetie, Mummy’s got you now. Nothing can harm you up here,” her mother muttered softly just above ears with the intention of appeasing her fears, feeling her press gentle kisses to the top of her head. She never wanted her mother to let go of her, knowing that she might have suffered from the voices that constantly desired to tear her apart, the shadows which mocked at and derided her. Yet, she was safe. There was nothing to worry about, now, especially when her mother was protecting her from the evils that pursued her.

The young harpsichordist sighed into her mothers bosom, her outward breaths still trembling, utterances faint as she spoke into the inviting fabric of the nightrobe. “I’m sorry for bothering you, Mum,” she apologized, slowly pulling her head away to gaze upon the concerned expression her mother bore.

“I know you are, Sweetie,” came the compassionate reply, “it’s alright.” To Anastasiya, it seemed as though her mother had been about to suffer a heart attack just from seeing her in the dark, in the middle of the night, at complete random, that not everything was alright, but the response fell dead to her lips. Tatiana caressed the back of her head gingerly to elicit a feeling of protection over her sweet little Angel, keeping her from fearing the nameless and faceless unknowns that haunted her. She smiled lovingly upon her child before drawing her back into the embrace, continuing to rock her back and forth. “You had a bad dream, didn’t you…?”

Anastasiya sniffed, closing her eyes and nodding her head. “It was _horrible_ , Mum. I was at the Crows Nest having a routine performance when the audience sneered at me when I screwed up, and they _laughed_ at me...”, she started with a terrorized voice, feeling her mother resting her chiseled chin on top of her head. “They were all faceless - _shadows -_ laughing at me like some vile cacophony. They closed in on me and became this giant bird with a white face. It had _your_ voice, Mum.”

“Oh, _Sweetie_ ,” Tatiana muttered sorrowfully, her usually statuesque face turning sad with realization.

She spilled out her troubles in between sobs. “You told me that I wasn’t good enough, that you only wanted perfection from your artists, that you wanted order when all I gave you was chaos. You told me that I _failed_ you. I would _never_ fail you, Mum. I _promise_. Please, don’t cast me away…”

“Ana, look at me,” her mother firmly told her with a gentle tone, as though afraid of harming her. When she glanced up to meet a pair of soft red-violet eyes, Anastasiya frowned noticeably in expectation for reprimanding. “You _know_ I would _never_ say those things to you. I would _never_ tell you that you’re not good enough for me. You’re _perfect_ , just the way you are.” She paused thoughtfully before smiling. “Okay?”

Even with the conflicting thoughts of her subconscious whispering mockingly in her ears, her mothers word logically won over her irrationality, and she felt safe. “Yeah,” Anastasiya muttered faintly into the chest of her mother.

Tatiana lifted her chin with just a finger to bring her attention back up, brushing a lock of black hair behind her ear with a thumb to better view the innocent countenance of her little girl. “Nothing will come to harm you anymore. You’re safe with me. I would _never_ let anything happen to my sweet baby girl. _Never_.”

Observing as her mother provided a necessary refuge, feeling a sense of safety from the darkness which threatened to snatch her mind away from rational thought again, Ana beamed before standing on the tips of her bare toes to press a kiss to a sharp cheek. “Promise?”, she asked, wanting to be absolutely positive of a good outcome. It was absurd to even _ask_ , but Ana still felt like a child when she suffered. At least her mother was always there when she needed her most.

She drew an X-shape over the left of her chest, “Cross my heart.”

In the moment of silence that came between them, Anastasiya pulled her arms around the shoulders of her mother and rested her chin near the crook her neck to nuzzle her. “I love you, Mum.”

Tatiana gently moved her head to rest upon that of her daughters own, lifting a hand to her back to fondle it delicately. “I love you too, Sweetie.” The otherwise simple response made her heart leap for joy, reminded that her mother would love and cherish her no matter the circumstances, and she felt a small kiss on her own cheek. They stood in silence for a long moment, arms coiled around one another as Anastasiya leaned into the inherent warmth of her mother, just wishing to be held.

There were times that simply being in the presence of people who loved her would give her peace of mind.

The sound of the faint breathing of her mother was like music to her ears, a symphony of sweetness overtaking the horrid cacophony of shadows screaming at her with an all too powerful force. No longer was the paralyzing fear of being scrutinized by her peers frightening to her. There was nothing to be afraid of. _Not anymore_.

“Thanks for listening,” Ana whispered breathily, relaxed in her mothers firm grip.

A delicate smile continued to grace her lips as her arms fit as though akin to a puzzle piece into her daughters embrace. “Of _course_ , Sweetie.” When they fell into the familiar pattern of silence, the low hum of electricity gliding through the walls being all that made a constant white noise, Tatiana tenderly lowered her but kept a hand on her shoulder to reassure her daughter of her shielding presence. She pulled up a stone finger when an idea had come to mind. “I know _exactly_ what you need: some chamomile tea. What do you think?”

Ana hummed with delight. _Of course_ , her mother would suggest _that_. “You _always_ know what’s best.”

“Of _course_ I know what’s best for you. I’m your mother,” Tatiana teased lightheartedly, “I know everything there is to know about you.” Escorting the young adult into the living room from the open entryway, she lifted an arm to increase the brightness of the lights just slightly to provide a pleasing, dim ambience into the spacious contemporary-styled room.

Leaning against her mother slightly for protection while an arm had been circled around her, Ana seated herself at the breakfast table when she came into the kitchen, feeling Tatiana remove her hand when she brushed by the chair toward the marble kitchen counter. When her head had been filled with joyful thoughts, she finally became calm, resting her head on the palm of a hand propped up by an elbow, observing her surroundings to keep her mind occupied while her mother perused the cupboard for a mug.

Generally, not much seemed to change from the time that she had flown the proverbial coop to now, but what she _had_ noticed on the far opposite wall was a shockingly new painting that Tatiana must have commissioned at some point recently: depicting herself with her mother standing almost adjacent to her while holding her opposite shoulder, shadowed by a background halved by dark blue and dark red. It seemed to be in the same style of the stained glass murals in her office, and it prompted her to wonder if it had been painted by the same artist.

Seeing the composition and content of the painting reminded her that her mother truly valued and cherished her.

When she laid her eyes on the bookcases that encased an obviously rarely used wall-mounted television, she blinked and narrowed her eyes as if to read the titles on the books that had been sorted so neatly on the shelves, coupled with silent hourglasses that had long since been overturned. Like the television set, it seemed to have been cloaked in a layer of dust and cobwebs from disuse, but she could have been mistaken. How often was her mother spending in her office instead of at home? She almost seemed _taxed_ , at times, as though carrying a weight on her shoulders. The woman certainly needed a break.

It brought her to look upon Tatiana with a sudden notion of satisfying her curiosity. With the shake of her head, she brought herself back to the present and observed the rather fatigued movement of her mother from the table, glimpsing into the details of her stony features. Almost no one on the planet could say that they had seen the CEO of NSR outside of working hours, even less _without_ the makeup or accessories that usually accentuated her face. It was instead showcased dry and bare with nothing but the cracks and wrinkles of her wearied and ashen stone skin. No eyeliner, no false eyelashes, less expressive eyebrows. It was plain. _Normal_. …ironic, considering they both were everything but.

“Mum,” Anastasiya uttered faintly to break the stagnant voicelessness, the tips of her lips bent slightly downward to convey a frown.

Tatiana paused her movement of placing chamomile teabags into two mugs with one hand while operating the element on the stove with the other, bringing her attention toward the young adult with a red-violet gaze.

She continued sheepishly, avoiding eye contact. “I’m sorry for bothering you in the middle of the night. I would’ve sent you a message, but I left my phone in my room and I didn’t want to go back to get it because I was … too afraid to go back inside when I found out I didn’t have it.” Ana knew that she would be upset with her being so reckless with her mobile phone, but it seemed that her usually stern mother was noticeably softer this evening.

“Sweetie, don’t worry about it." Tatiana waved it off tiredly before she returned to filling a kettle with water and placing it on a burner, “I know you’re a good girl and you do as you’re told. I know you would have contacted me if you had it, but my heart _did_ skip a beat when I saw you,” she paused before smiling with longing, “No matter the circumstances, I’m glad you’re here. I miss you.”

She sighed, “I’ve missed you too, Mum.” When she had gone back to staring distractedly toward an ill-defined spot on the wall, her mother immediately noticed that something had been off about her. Ana still had that overbearing, yet irrational feeling that maybe the bird-beast of her nightmare had a _point_. Logically, it seemed _absurd_ , her mother even assured her that such a thing was utterly impossible, yet…, what if it was true?

If she did poorly in her performances, her mother would likely have viewed her as less than par. What would have happened if Anastasiya had _not_ been her daughter? Was she only being treated this way because her mother was _the_ Tatiana Qwartz? Was that the _only_ reason why she was considered so great in NSR? It shook her to realize that those fiendish reminders had a point. Her mother _did_ treat her differently from the other music artists in her record company, seemed to have been more stringent on her than she would have been on anyone else.

Her mind fell back into the infernal chaos.

“Sweetie,” the woman in question called out in concern from behind the island counter, but the harpsichordist seemed far too into her head to have noticed. She tried again. “ _Sweetie_ , what’s wrong?”

Ana blinked, bringing herself back to reality to muster her reply. “Nothing,” she lied through her teeth, shaking her head, “It’s fine.”

Her positively monolithic mother was not taking ‘No’ for an answer. With a heaving sigh, she brought her fists back to her hips, but her expression was far less severe than the first time she had. It was painfully obvious that Tatiana had immediately known when her daughter lied to her. “Ana, _look_ at me.”

Lifting her gaze back up toward the steely facet of her mother, though it had still somehow been softer and motherly than that of the multiple times she had been disciplined before, Anastasiya remained obediently silent.

“Don’t lie to me, Ana. You know better than that,” she firmly scolded her before turning the conversation in another direction entirely, dropping the square of her shoulders into a vague slump to convey her exhaustion, reassuring her daughter, “What do you have to be worried about? You’re _fine_. Nothing’s going to harm you up here.”

Knowing that she had been quickly found out – of course, her _mother_ would know right out of the gate that she had been withholding any information from her – Ana sighed and brushed a hair nervously behind her ear. She attempted to muster the will to speak, but the constant notion that what she had still been concerned over was foolish to bring up prevented her from uttering it for a solid minute. She frowned. “Would you even hold me in the same regard if I wasn’t your daughter? Why are you harder on me than everyone else in NSR?”

Tatiana stared at her incredulously, snorting with silent laughter, but her lips turned to an apparent emotionlessness when she instinctually brought out her disciplinary mask. “Ana, _stop_. Those are ridiculous questions. Of course, your _music_ would be treated the same, but just because you’re my daughter doesn’t mean that I give you special privileges in NSR. It means that your music is most loved by the citizens of Vinyl City over my other artists,” she paused, allowing the answer a moment to sink in, foregoing her annoyance with the nature of the question by softening it, “Sweetie, I _love_ you and I’ve wanted to see you grow up right, but I treat you differently than everyone else _because_ you’re my daughter. I _expect_ better out of you _because_ you were raised by _me_. Understand?”

“Yes, Mum,” the young adult answered softly.

“…chin up,” Tatiana continued lightheartedly, attempting to lift the atmosphere again, “You’re _fine_. Stop worrying. You don’t have to think about what might happen if you weren’t my daughter, because you _are_. I will love you all the same, no matter what you do. You know that, _r_ _ight_?”

Ana nodded almost voicelessly before sighing. “I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“ _Ana_ , it’s _fine_. You don’t have to apologize,” her mother chided tiredly, “Now, I don’t want to hear any more of this out of you tonight, got it? Mummy’s tired.”

“Yes, Mum,” came the understanding reply, followed by a series of deep breaths in an attempt to center herself. Ana knew that she was overreacting, but she still needed her mother to reassure her that _this_ was reality. Knowing there was no reason to complain about the responses she received, Anastasiya tried to remain calm before she slowly recalled that she _still_ had a mug of chamomile tea in her future.

“Good,” Tatiana answered with a satisfied smirk before turning her attention back to the stove, only turning her neck slightly to gaze upon her daughter out of the corner of her eyes. “Your tea’ll be finished soon.”

The common stillness returned into the open living room when the young adult finally relented, finally beginning to feel a sense of closure. However, as quickly as the silence had come between them, it had been broken, “Mum, thanks for letting me stay. Especially so late at night. I didn’t think you would even let me in.”

The grin that she had seen from her mother was particularly loving, giving Ana a chance to finally find the strength to simper in contagious response. “Of course, Sweetie. Just don’t make it a habit, okay? I don’t need a heart attack at my age.” A shrill whistle alarmed the both of them as their attention was turned back to the kettle on the range, steam spewing out of its spout while Tatiana pulled it off of the burner to pour the steaming water into two patiently waiting mugs. Upon switching the element off and bringing the kettle to an unused burner to cool it down, she pulled a jar of honey from the furthest corner of the countertop and opened it to draw up a tablespoon of the sweet viscous amber to stir it in the chamomile.

There was nothing like a good cup of chamomile tea with a spoonful of honey. It not only tasted perfectly sweet and pleasing to the tongue, but it had more than enough health benefits to be considered a superfood. It was, after all, perfect for attracting sleep.

Lifting the mugs from the marble countertop, Tatiana carefully balanced them to the breakfast table before placing one down before Ana with a warm smile and joyful countenance. “Chamomile with honey...”, she uttered softly, adding, “for my Honey.” Ana felt a soothing kiss on her cheek before seeing her mother take the chair across from her, a mug of her own in hand.

The now serene young adult craned her neck downward to take in the wonderful aroma that showered her senses in a bath of flowers and sweet honey. “Thanks so much, Mum. It’s perfect. It smells so delicious.” Anastasiya felt the deceptively amiable palm of her mother stroking her cheek, leaning her head against it to feel as though she were encompassed with affection, the single most pleasant alternative to the biting semblance of unbridled fear. With the single sip of her tea, cupping the mug in both hands, her heart swelled with serenity and love at the perfect tango of flavors that both calmed and brightened her.

“You’re welcome, Ana.” Her mother beamed, grazing a hand over soft black locks of hair for just a moment before bringing her own mug to her stone lips. “Feeling a little better, now?”

She nodded with great gratification, imbibing more of her honey-filled chamomile as though enchanted by its taste and its known healing qualities. “Yes, Mum. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there when I needed you most. You’re the stone that keeps me upright.” What she missed in her mothers body gesture was pride and glee, in knowing that her daughter still would cling to the person who provided her a guiding light and motherly love to sustain her being. In the end, even Tatiana felt the need to be reminded of how much her own daughter cherished her.

Even in the mess Anastasiya found her in that night, the wicked shadows parted when her mother held the candle that guided her to the light.

“Mum,” she glanced upward with glittering blue-violet eyes to meet enervated red-violet eyes, seemingly brighter than they had been and suddenly suspiciously full of mischief, “I didn’t know fossils could suffer from a heart attack.”

Tatiana blinked as she stared upon Ana blankly before coming to the realization that not only was she referring to her mother possibly having a heart attack from seeing her in the middle of the night, unannounced, but the fact that she seemed to have found her humor and wit again. She playfully pushed the shoulder of her sweet child with a pair of teasing fingers while Ana grinned in amusement. “You _goof_. Now I _know_ you’re feeling better.”

Ana barely kept herself from bursting into laughter, instead nearly squeaking. “I’m _sorry_ , but you just left yourself open,” the young adult snickered airily, “The perfect opportunity would have been missed if I _didn’t_ say anything.” Her mother pouted in jest, as though feigning hurt. It was when they began joking with each other that it seemed like the night had finally became some semblance of normality.

When the young harpsichordist had finally begun feeling the heavenly lull of the chamomile beginning to press her brain to sleep, she attempted to hide her resulting yawn from her mother, but Tatiana was too perceptive not to notice. Though, if she had to be honest with herself, _she_ was also becoming more relaxed with each coming moment, unwilling to state the obvious when she opted for something a bit more subtle. When they had finished their tea, Ana offered to place the mugs into the sink while Tatiana prepared her for bed.

“Ana,” the voice of her mother called off hand from halfway across the living room, closely studying the book binds of everything from novels to magazines to picture books, sitting unused on the shelves. When the young adult turned her focus toward her, she continued, “Remember, when you were just a little girl, how I used to read to you so you could fall asleep after you had a nightmare?”

“ _Mum_ …”, she drawled, slightly embarrassed at the memory.

She shrugged a shoulder before removing a familiar book from the shelf. “Why not? Humor your mother a little. I think it would be perfect to fall asleep on. Just like old times.” Despite the fact that it reminded her of some particularly humiliating memories, Ana could not object to inevitably falling to sleep in her mothers lap while listening to her musical vocal tone. Before Ana could say anything, it was apparent that Tatiana could easily grasp the nature of her relieved and unsurprisingly contented expression before lowering the light in the living room to but a dim ember, only lit by two gold-patterned lamps sitting on slate end tables.

When the stone-faced woman stretched her legs nonchalantly across the contemporary couch, she tapped its firm fabric with her hand and opened her arm to Anastasiya to entice her down. The young adult willingly fell into the warmth when she lowered herself to the couch and cuddled into the loving embrace of her mother as she drew a heavy patchwork quilt over them both.

“I love you, Mum,” Ana told her in a small mutter, kissing her cheek and bringing her legs in just slightly as she brought one hand up to her mothers silken torso, resting her head just upon her shoulder.

Tatiana smiled and leaned her lower cheek against the head of her daughter, kissing its crown as though she were as fragile as glass. “I love you too, Sweetie.” When the two of them were comfortable against one another, fitting perfectly on a sufficing width, she took the childrens book from the elevated back of the couch and opened it, caressing her sweet girl as she read the first page to her. “‘Once upon a time’…”

Little time passed before Ana relaxed into the crook of her shoulder, breathing becoming more soft and even as her eyes closed, listening to the music that was her mothers solemn voice. Not long after that, Anastasiya fell to sleep nuzzled against her mothers chest, but Tatiana continued to read until she was unable to keep her own eyes open, yawning tiredly, partially covering her mouth with the hand holding the book.

“Goodnight, my dearest Anastasiya,” she whispered softly, pressing another kiss upon the forehead of her sleeping daughter and setting the book down on the end table behind her, never letting go of her sweet child wrapped in her arm. Switching off the lamps with a single tap, she breathed out a tranquil sigh and brought her head down to a soft pillow, moving her other hand over the chest of Ana as if to protect her from the cacophony of laughing shadows and bird-beasts bearing her mothers face. Tatiana closed her eyes and gradually, too, fell into slumber.

They had sweet dreams.


End file.
